Chapter Text
The Child in the Snow Covered Streets - The Brightest Smile
If there was one thing that could change a person and their outlook on the world, it was the innocence of a child. It was also the resilience and persistence and pure will to survive in a world that was unkind to a child. A child who still smiles brightly, as if nothing was wrong. A child who smiles in the face of danger, with a will to survive and see another day.
A child with the silkiest hair despite the dirt covering him, the brightest silver orbs observing two grown men nearly having a throwdown right there in the snow-covered street. Head tilted to the side like a curious fox, given how sneaky and adaptable on the fly the child had been when the first adult found him, the child was crouched in his corner.
A large crowd had gathered to watch, as the two men standing nose to nose were very respectable Sect Leaders of two very prominent Sects.
“Umm..” the child spoke up, his gaze softening into something close to hesitance. His eyebrows were furrowed in the center, a small frown marring his face. “Why are these shūshus fighting?”
His words made the two men stop posturing at each other, blinking as if they had suddenly remembered that they were in this town for a reason.
“My apologies, A’Ying,” the man in stylish purple robes bowed slightly, apologetic. “I just wasn’t expecting another man looking for you as well.” He slid a glare at the other man, pale purple eyes nearly glowing with restrained violence.
The child, A’Ying, tilted his head again. “Why does this shūshu know my name? Do you know me? Do I know you?”
The purple-dressed man- OMG IT’S THE PURPLE MAN!!! IT’S HIM!!! RUN!!!! HIDE!!! ESCA- *COUGH HACK WHEEZE* I MEAN- the purple-dressed man laughed lightly, hiding with his sleeve what could only be a smile with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“I do know you, your parents are- *cough* were some of my very good friends.” The smile on his face turned sad at the mention, though he powered on, “I would like to offer you a home, A’Ying.”
A’Ying stared blankly at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly. “A home? Where?”
“In Lotus Pier, where I live. My name is Jiang Fengmian, Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang. Would you like to learn more about your parents and their natal sect?” He asked, extending a hand to him as he got closer to the boy.
A’Ying stared at him harder, unease making him curl even tighter into himself.
“Stop it, you’re scaring the poor boy.” The other man, who was dressed in pretty reds and whites, spoke up. He crouched down, making himself smaller, and the other similarly dressed men who came with him gasped, all scandalized. He extended his hand forward slowly, so he wouldn’t spook A’Ying. “Hello, my name is Wen Ruohan, and your mother was my wife. It must be so confusing and intimidating to have two men nearly fight over you. Would you like to come home with me? You are my son, and I would like to return her things to you. She left a will. I can teach you more about that.”
The man had a soft smile on his face; it gentled his features. A'Ying didn’t answer right away, still unsure and uneasy, but he did relax at the prospect of learning more about his mother.
One of the red-white-robed men sighed in exasperation, knocking his forehead with what seemed to be a scroll.
“Wen-Zōngzhǔ, now you’re causing distress.” He came over to crouch next to his Sect Leader. “Oh, you’re so small. My foolish Sect Leader is correct, though.”
A’Ying turned to him, eyes more curious than suspicious now. “You are telling truth? You knew my a’niang?”
Wen Ruohan wore the same soft smile, but there was a little more to it. His smile held such love when he mentioned his wife. “I am. I have two older sons from a previous marriage. They know a lot about her and are interested in meeting you. They are, in fact, here in this city. They came with me, as they wanted to shop.”
A’Ying still looked hesitant, but after he took a deep breath, he stood up from his hunched position. It was then that the crowd noticed his wounds; some were still bleeding, while others were badly healed. Some women in the crowd let out wounded sounds, seeing the wounds. Being out in the cold, in such rags and so injured; it was not good for the child. The cultivators vying for his attention, however, were locked onto the two falling-apart straw dolls clenched tightly in his hands. Straw dolls that were typically used for beginner mannequin doll cultivation.
“Who are the two dolls you have with you?” Wen Ruohan asked gently, gesturing to the dolls in question. He asked who instead of what, because most often those dolls are cultivated with spirits that held a close bond with the cultivator.
A’Ying smiled brightly, all hesitancy and suspicion gone, replaced with the innocent happiness only a child could have. “Straw dolls! I made them myself!”
Wen Ruohan thought that was just the cutest thing, but there was a little symbol on both of them that caught his eye. “What amazing craftsmanship! What do the symbols mean?”
A’Ying’s smile dimmed, turning a little sadder. “I wanted to remember my parents, as little as I do. These symbols..were found on their clothes. I had one of the jie’s in the inn describe it to me so I can stitch it in. It took me so long to do! My fingers had holes for days!”
Wen Ruohan let out a choked sound, curling forward as if in pain.
A’Ying exclaimed in alarm, turning panicked eyes to the other Wen man. “What happened?! Did I hurt him?! Pl-Please don’t hit me! Please, this one didn’t mean it! Ple-”
He was cut off by the man gently hushing him. “Easy, A’Ying, it’s alright, it’s alright, no one’s going to hit you. Breathe with me now, good, good. My idiot Sect Leader is just emotional right now, but it is a good emotion.”
“Wen Haiyan!” Wen Ruohan hissed, holding his chest in mock-hurt.
The other man, Wen Haiyan, snorted, a smirk upon his face. Seeing the smirk and that Wen Ruohan was truly alright, A’Ying calmed down.
Giving his aide a dark side eye, Wen Ruohan looked back at the child. “Let me ask another way, would you like to come with me to my home?”
A’Ying smiled brightly at him, raising his arms in that all too well-known sign, and Wen Ruohan didn’t even bat an eye at the state of the child’s clothing as he picked him up and brushed some snow off his person as he did.
It was then that Jiang Fengmian reminded them that he was still there. “How dare you?! That child is Wei Ying! Son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren! He should come to Lotus Pier, to Yunmeng Jiang, as it is his natal sect!”
Wen Ruohan scoffed, turning away slightly to hide A’Ying from the furious man. “Of course he is. However, I seem to recall that Wei Changze had left the sect to be a rogue cultivator and to elope with Cangse Sanren. It was on one of the many trips I took that I met the couple. We got along greatly, and started to meet up time and time again.” A condescending smirk graced the man’s face. “You know the rest.”
Jiang Fengmian took a step forward, the beginnings of a snarl on his face. “You will give the son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren to me right this instant!”
He then charged forward, arm outstretched as if he was going to grab onto something. Wen Ruohan turned on his heel, ready to jump away, when the child in his arms began to shake violently. Before he could ask what was wrong, there was a sudden pressure bearing down on them, and it brought them to their knees. Most of the civilians had crumbled where they stood, sprawling around them. The cultivators staggered, and Wen Ruohan was impressed that a good portion of them were still standing, though they were using their swords to do so.
It was when he turned around, carefully, to face Jiang Fengmian that the full impact of the pressure was understood. The other man was pressed into the ground like a huge, physical weight had been placed upon his person. The ground was actually crumpling under him, but what really caught the Wen Sect Leader’s attention was the physical manifestation of a child’s fear bearing down on the Jiang man.
Wen Ruohan could just barely make out the outlines of what appeared to be spirits. More were appearing around them, but it felt more protective than anything else.
Ignoring the spectacle, he turned his focus onto the shaking child in his arms. “A’Ying, what’s wrong? Are you-?”
A’Ying whimpered a bit before he opened his mouth, and out came, “GO AWAY, JIANG FENGMIAN!” His voice sounded like it was echoed by overlapping voices, and with it came another bout of pressure that felt intensified by the unnatural howling of crowding spirits. As they crowded around the cultivators, obscuring their view, Wen Ruohan crumbled to his knees and tightened his hold on A’Ying even more protectively.
After what felt like an eternity, he cautiously looked up and around. The space around him was cleared by a good number of yīngchǐ (feet, Chinese term for the imperial measurement system), with the entirety of his guards groaning on the ground but otherwise unhurt. The Jiang Sect members, on the other hand, were nowhere to be seen, and neither was their Sect Leader.
“By the Heavens,” Wen Haiyan breathed out, slowly coming to stand on his feet. He looked incredibly windswept, eyes wide and wild. “Wen-Zōngzhǔ, I think we need to have a talk about your choice in lovers.”
Wen Ruohan started to chuckle before it dissolved into hysterical laughter, his entire body shaking with the force of it. When he finally got it under control, except for a few crazed chuckles escaping him, he chanced a look at A’Ying. He was panting heavily, and rather warm.
A soft smile slowly appeared on his face, as he turned to face Wen Haiyan. “Looks like this little one needs proper food, rest, and training. Men!” Wen Ruohan called out to his guards. “We’re going home! We have a new little fire prince to introduce properly.”
As he looked down at A’Ying, Wen Ruohan could have sworn that he felt as though change was coming.
A’Ying, the child smiling brightly despite his surroundings.
He was the brightest star, shining brilliantly against the void of fate. The smiling child in the snow covered streets.